not their contents

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
                |
                |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |
"Put a blanket."

is this you as well

autonomy of learning

He was a proper old-fashioned London geezer (cringe word, hate it, can't think of a better one, worst of all it's the correct word), kind of East Endy, kind of Real London, the kind you don't really meet but if you do it always feels like an uncanny immersive theatre experience. They're anachronistic. They only belong in the London collectively imagined by people who don't spend any time in it.

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

amazing hopefully this was all legible and frankly i might be going very off board but you seemed interesting

the only things i have read are just excerpts and 1 dialogue by plato fully and mcluhan's medium is the massage but it cannot be considered a book

i was tempted to lie about my name

that looks like my instagram account

...

She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.

i understand

god "possessing" artists "possessing" people

i hope ai fixes this with the cessation of interfaces and walls

like people can read 100 books and still not have the fire within them

bro i read nothing in my life

plato

so at the end

all that is to say

hiding from the rain

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

i love it here

yeah

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

abrar?